


My Brother Doesn't Talk To Me – An Essay By Donquixiote Buffalo, Fourteen Years Old

by Lady_R



Category: One Piece
Genre: Child!Buffalo is a fanboy, Diamante and Trebol are Pica's gay dads, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Other, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_R/pseuds/Lady_R
Summary: "Now that he’s twenty-four, my brother is strong enough to lift boxes bigger than me, or break a log in two without leaning it on his knees. He always carries his weights wherever we go: they’re five hundred kilos each. I can’t even lift them.I tried it once, and he didn’t like it. He ripped the handle off my hand and threw me out his room.He said nothing, but I just needed to look at him to realize how angry he was. You have to look at his face to know what he says.Because my brother almost never talks. Especially to me. "Donquixiote Buffalo, fourteen years old, has a firm belief in one thing: there's no one in the world cooler than his older brother Pica. Big, strong, a mighty warrior and Executive of the crew. Buffalo can't help but aspire to be as awesome as he.But Pica-sama is not an easy man to deal with: short-tempered, solitary, abrasive and as quiet as a rock. Not that Buffalo cares, just like he doesn't care about his comically high-pitched voice.He just wants his brother to be happy, at least for once – but an attempt of his to cheer him up won't obtain the desired effect.
Relationships: Diamante/Trebol (One Piece)
Kudos: 7





	My Brother Doesn't Talk To Me – An Essay By Donquixiote Buffalo, Fourteen Years Old

**Author's Note:**

> "I once laughed at Pica-sama's voice, and risked dying of torture"  
(One Piece, chapter 763)

My brother Pica is ten years older than me. He has wide shoulders, yellow eyes, and hair so soft you’d wanna lay into them and take a nap.

He always wears a helm on his head, a real bronze helm, but his neck never gets tired: my brother is a great warrior, and he likes to show it to those he meets. His father – he has two, but one for longer – says he has been wearing it since a child. I didn’t even have a helm when I was nine. I once made myself one with a bucket, but it was not the same. 

His father, the same one, also says that when he was my age he had knocked down a building with his bare fists. Without his Devil Fruit, without even a mace, just his hands. The usher had laughed at Diamante’s high heels, and he couldn’t take it anymore. Now that he’s twenty-four, my brother is strong enough to lift boxes bigger than me, or break a log in two without leaning it on his knees. He always carries his weights wherever we go: they’re five hundred kilos each. I can’t even lift them.

I tried it once, and he didn’t like it. He ripped the handle off my hand and threw me out his room. 

He said nothing, but I just needed to look at him to realize how angry he was. You have to look at his face to know what he says.

Because my brother almost never talks. Especially to me. 

We always have fun, in the evening. Young Master says that now that I’m fourteen I can have a taste of wine, if I behave. Baby 5 wants some too, but she’s too small, and Dellinger seems content with his milk. 

Uncle Machvise knows a lot of crass songs, but Aunt Jora doesn’t want him to sing them anymore now that we have Dellinger. This evening he plays Binks’ Sakè, which is our favorite song. Baby 5, Diamante and Lao G sing with him. Jora shows Dellinger the keys. Corazon claps his hands in time. While singing, Diamante rubs his rear on Trebol’s belly, and pretends to play an electric guitar. Trebol grabs him by the arms, spins him around and gives him a big kiss on the mouth. Me and Baby 5 look at one another: -Yuck!- 

And my brother Pica has vanished under dock, tormenting his gloved hands, doing whatever. He does it every evening, and no one says a thing. Not even his father Diamante: he has drank twenty glasses of red wine, and Trebol holds his hair as he pukes in a bucket.

-Doesn’t Pica like music?- I ask as soon as he raises his head. 

-Na-naturally.- Diamante grins. -But if m-my sweet pebble wanted to sing…- he laughs, and leans on Trebol’s shoulder. -…I’d listen to him, even f-for hours.- 

-Indeedy.- I giggle. -He has such a cute little voice.-

But Diamante shakes his head and frowns at me. -Never… e-ever say this again.- 

I don’t mind, if my brother has a funny voice. 

Gladius had advised me, as he lead me to come know the Executives. -Pica-sama is very sensible about his timber. Don’t laugh at him and act as if it was nothing. No one can hold him back if he gets mad.- 

I didn’t laugh. I bit my own tongue, I behaved. Yet it was funny, unbelievably funny. It sounds fake, as squeaky as a whistle. And my brother Pica is a bigger boy than me, so large at the last restaurant we went he didn’t pass through the door. 

People laugh, when they hear him. The pirates we battle, the marines that chase us, the young recruits that don’t even fear Corazon. My brother is a great warrior, and his Devil Fruit allows him to assimilate the stone he comes into contact with. He can become as tall as a building, and throws punches that shakes the mountains. 

Then my brother returns small again – relatively, it means – and shrinks into his shoulders as if he wanted to vanish. He has bloodshot eyes, hands shaking underneath the gloves. He has been wearing them since I first met him, and according to Baby 5 he keeps them even in the shower.

Yet his voice is funny, there’s no denying it. And on a very bad day I too laugh. 

My brother Pica likes rocks. It must be because he can become one, but Diamante says it’s always been so. he kept a collection of pebbles in his pockets, wherever he went, and didn’t even let Young Master touch them,

Now that collection is big enough to occupy entire shelves. Rocks of all colours, all shapes, with complicated names like _tormaline_ and _bauxite_. There’s some as smooth as glass, as coarse as bark. Some glow like the rainbow when the sun strikes them. 

We’re at the beach relaxing, when it happens. Jora is teaching Dellinger how to swim, Diamante us sunbathing and drinking red wine, Young Master reads a book underneath the umbrella. Pica is on the side, curled up in between the sea rocks. He doesn’t even smile when I place my gift by his side.

-Onii-sama.- I say clapping my hands. -Look what I brought you_-dasuyan_.-

He removes his hair from the face with gloved hands. -What is that?-

I gasp – his voice really is funny – and I point at it with an ample gesture.

-A rock. Do you like it? I did pour somìe ice cream on it.- Vanilla, nougat and passion fruit: a spectacle. -But it’s a good rock, innit?-

He gives me a stealthy look. The helm must be scorching, with this heat: thick droplets of sweat run down his forehead and wrists, from underneath the thick purple gloves. 

-What does this mean?-

I don’t know much about rocks, but the one I gave him is pretty nice. It’s silver grey, with some red stains like rust, as big as my fist. Some shells even grow on the right side. Gladius says they're called brana… banarc… another complicated name. He’s also a good brother, but much less cool. 

-I just want to make you happy. A gift for my favorite brother ever.- 

My brother retreats towards the rocks. He leans the gloved hands on the ground. 

-Nobody is laughing, stop it,.

Maybe I would laugh, but it’s best not. Not only because if my brother gets mad, he can destroy entire cities, but also because I see he is not happy, and I wish I could see him smile at least once in a while. 

-But it’s true.- I cross my arms and I face him, keeping him from standing up. -You’re the coolest pirate I ever saw. You like rocks, don’t you?-

He stares at me as if I had just offered him to join the Navy, and turns to the other way. -Stop bothering me. It’s not funny.- 

-I’m not here to bother you.- 

I sit by his side, and wipe the surface of the rock with my shirt. My brother is a Devil Fruit user, and salt must hurt him a lot. 

-It’s just a gift, no more. Because you’re my favorite brother ever. The coolest in the family.- 

He looks at me, beyond the rock, as if he didn’t even see the rock. He then lowers his eyes towards his hand, towards where he is sitting. Maybe he is meditating or such, but I don’t think so. They say meditating makes one calm, and my brother is not. Maybe my gift can help. 

He looks at me again. 

-The coolest. Some shit.- 

There’s something so funny in listening to that tiny voice swearing. I couldn’t do it, or Corazon and Diamante get mad. Yet it’s really as if a child had said it – a child of twenty four years old, with colossal shoulders and an eight-pack. 

I can’t hold it anymore: I cover my mouth and I laugh, rolling on the rocks. 

I don’t want to offend him, nor hurt him. It’s just funny. Yet he staggers, and stares at me as if he hated me. 

-Do you think I’m funny?- 

My brother can control stone, and he can also control them. They rise around me, wrapping me in humid and tight tentacles. I open my mouth to scream, but the stone fill my mouth up in salt.

-Am I funny, to you? Ridiculous?- 

Help, I scream. I feel my arms quiver, my legs, my stomach. It’s a scary sound, and it hurts underneath the skin. I can’t move, I can’t breathe. I can’t even see my brother anymore: but I hear his voice, cold and far away. 

-Do I make you laugh? Are you still laughing? Eh? Still laughing?- 

But I’m actually crying, and screaming against the stone. If my brother hears me, he doesn’t seem to mind. 

That night, I cannot sleep. 

I’m covered in plaster, shoulders to the toes. According to Young Master, I almost died. 

So this is what it feels like. I’m the first young recruit to risk their life. I’m a war hero, or whatever. The nursery doesn’t even feel that bad. Jora and Machvise serve me like a prince, and Gladius spoon-fed me the fish soup of dinner. I kinda feel as if I was the Young Master here. 

Baby 5 has fallen asleep crying, next to my bed. Diamante took her to her room in his arms. He looked at me sadly, holding my baby sister close. 

-I’m sorry, child. My pebble isn’t an easy one. Just try and sleep.-

And try to sleep I do, as still as the rock I wanted to give him. I watch the shadows chase one another on the ceiling, I listen to the sea stroking the side of the Numancia Flamingo. 

Maybe my brother isn’t as cool as I thought. He didn’t do a nice thing, and didn’t even care about my gift. Out of all the family, he’s the only one that hasn’t showed up. I wish I could talk to him, ask him why he got so angry and if he still is – but my brother doesn’t talk to me, and he doesn’t show up all evening. 

A tear falls down my face, and I can’t wipe it. 

I count the hours passing by, looking at the wall clock. It’s around one at night – wow, I never pulled so late, I’m a true grown-up now – that I hear faint knocking at the door. Then a streak of light, and my brother leans underneath the ceiling, holding something I can’t see into his arms. 

I want to raise my arms to shield myself, but they’re plastered and I can’t move them. He walks with slow steps, because when he walks it feels as if the ground is shaking, and he sits by my side without a sound.

He turns on the lamp, and I finally see what he’s holding: a cup of ice cream the size of my head. Gianduja, mint, peanut cream.

My brother Pica is the bestest. 

He places the ice cream on his knees and sticks the spoon in the green scoop.

-Want it?- he whispers. I can barely hear him, so he doesn’t make me laugh. 

-Of course!- I exclaim, but still in a low voice. I can’t grab the spoon, in such a state, and my brother must know, because he spoon-feeds me without a question. Not much to say: nothing beats mint. Even if at times I think I prefer banana. Or raspberry. Or cream. Hard to say, every flavor is so good!

-Thanks, onii-sama.- I whisper, and I happily swallow my secret break. -So you’re no longer angry?-

He shakes his head, and offers me another spoonful. Not much to say: nothing beats peanut cream. 

-Not at you.-

M brother Pica has yellow eyes, and when they’re humid they look like pieces of treesap. There’s a type of stone that comes from it, but I don’t recall the name. If my brother isn’t mad anymore, and he wants to chat, I could ask him what its name is. 

-Do you wanna chat?- I thus try. -I promise I won’t laugh anymore.-

He’s wearing his night outfit: a vest, boxers and slippers. His father has a handmade silk nightgown, hair curlers plastered in diamonds, and always slathers some green muck on his face. Or is it the mucus of his partner, that falls on him when they do the nasty dirty things? Hard to understand, but they still couldn’t be any more different. 

He still wears the helm, though, and the gloves too. He has a different pair than today, black wool, elbow-length. His hands are so big he has to hold glasses between the index and the thumb: where does he even find the fabric?

-What could you even say, in such a state?-

I answer him with a smile, with all my teeth. -One can find a way. For example, now I’m happy you’re here. And that you brought me my favorite ice cream_-dasuyan_.-

My brother clicks his lips.

-How did you even think of giving me a rock?-

I raise my eyes. -To make you happy. You like rocks.-

-I didn’t like it.- My brother twirls his nose. -I like stones, not rocks.-

-And what’s the difference?-

He rubs a finger on his forehead. -I don’t have time to explain it. But it was sweet, I give it that.-

-That’s all because you’re my favorite brother.- I smile, and I gulp another splendid spoonful of mint. -You’re strong and fearless. And I still admire you, even if you hurt me.-

My brother brings me another spoonful, and fixes the sheets underneath my chin.

-Thanks.- he babbles. 

I sniff. -Do you think, I too could be as strong and cool as you?-

My brother sighs, and lowers those huge shoulders. During the day, he wears fitted shoulder guards to shape them up as he pleases. Maybe it hurts: he has reddened skin, and some scars too. My brother is so strong. I love him so much. 

-No one says you can’t. But promise me a thing.-

-What, onii-sama?-

He raises the gloved hand and strokes my hair, removing the strands from my face. His lips are clenched, as if he wanted to say a thing but was unable to. I want to hold his hand, but I can’t move.

In the end he lowers his gaze, and sighs again. 

-Don’t copy my gloves, or I wreck your head for good.-

-I won’t, onii-sama.-

I smile again – maybe he understands I’m smiling, but not laughing, and he looks at me as if he saw me for the first time. He takes another spoonful of ice cream and moves it towards my face, but at the very end he pulls it back and puts it in his mouth. 

-Hey! That’s mine!-

He pulls out his tongue. -I’m faster than you. And it’s not even that bad. I like cold food, it freezes my throat.-

He licks his lips. -We will share one every day until you heal, alright?-

I blink: ice cream, so good! And next to my favorite big brother too. Maybe it wasn’t a bad day after all. We can laugh together, swap manly stories, and he will teach me how to become a warrior as great as he. And the next time someone laughs, I will kill them. This way, my big brother will not have to worry about it, and smile more.

I’m a good brother, if I want to, and I love him so. 


End file.
